


Most Unfortunate Circumstances

by CravenWyvern



Series: DS Extras [15]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Charlie is there as well, Gen, Gift Fic, Hound Wilson, In relation to the fic Lucky Wilson by aPaperCupCut, Y'all should read the other fic first before reading this one, grumpy old man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 17:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13663518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CravenWyvern/pseuds/CravenWyvern
Summary: (A gift to aPaperCupCut, something written in the verse of their hound Wilson story)The cold is terrible, winter is terrible, the night is terrible, the spider brat is terrible, the monster that was once a scientist is terrible, everything is terrible and Maxwell hates it.Especially that horrid robot and the fact that his hair still hasn't fully grown back.





	Most Unfortunate Circumstances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aPaperCupCut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aPaperCupCut/gifts).



> Do read Lucky Wilson by aPaperCupCut first before this because this will literally not make much sense if you don't.

Good God why did it have to be so cold.

Maxwell sat up, rubbed his arms and hunched his shoulders as he grit his jaw, forced his teeth to not chatter. The fire was low in its pit and it took a moment to realize that it had just snowed, a fine layer of powdered ice surrounding him. Already soaked a bit into his suit too, damn it.

That little brat had been wrong then. Maxwell may have created this place and set up its pieces, but that sure as hell didn't mean he knew everything about it. He had no idea how the weather and the seasons worked, never bothered to pay attention to such things, yet now it was as if everyone expected him to know the exact date and time for the first frost.

Idiots, the lot of them, and as if he'd tell them anyway. 

(Well, if he had known he probably would have, since they were the ones to keep this group all in order. Maxwell sure wasn't the one to be doing all the hunting or working.)

But the idea was of another few weeks of passive weather, not a snowfall tonight of all times! They were not prepared whatsoever, nothing was ready for this season at all!

(They all knew that the only one to be hit hard by winter would be him; the former King was the only one out of the two to not be so drastically changed into having fur.)

Stupid spider, believing they still had time. And now, with this first frost and with the many to come as the season progressed, Maxwell did not have much hope in his survival.

Well, wasn't that what he was looking for in the first place? Getting away from these two was, of course, the end goal. He'd not be dead for long anyway, so perhaps this early winter was a blessing in disguise.

Not quite a painless blessing, but nonetheless. He suspected that he'd have them out of his hair in less than a week, give or take a few lucky coincidences.

Maxwell shivered, his worn suit doing nothing to combat the cold, and rubbed a gloved hand over his head, face snarling in leftover humiliating anger. As if he had any hair for them to get out of anyway.

Perhaps that was why he was even colder than he thought he would be. It's been nearly a month and still that damn robots “torture” hadn't fully restored itself. 

(He'd never admit that he was already balding, but he absolutely knew that he looked worse now than he'd ever look at a far older age; his hair was growing back much too slowly for him to be comfortable with and it irked him everytime he remembered.)

The cold was worsening, dropping as the night continued on, sky empty of the moon, and Maxwell slowly got himself to shuffle over to the firepit and its struggling flame. His limbs ached and cried out with every movement and it took him embarrassingly long to actually stand up and search for fuel, shivering all the while.

So now the cold was going to be another factor for this insufferable run. It was already hard enough to get up when the ground was his bedding, but with the snow soon to come the former King was going to have a very hard time getting out and about.

And with these two campmates of his, more jail wardens than anything, he'd be pushed about and ordered around like usual, no care at all for an old man who should not be working in freezing temperatures in any fashion.

If he was lucky enough, maybe he'd die in his sleep. Sure would be a shock to the spider kid, now wouldn't it, and one last obscene gesture to the hairy monstrosity that bullied him about.

Really, it was ridiculous that they were even keeping him here against his own will. What has he offered them?

A nice, “scarring” experience to the kid when he was kidnapped and then tortured, as well as a few mental breakdowns for the once a man?

Truthfully, if he had been on the opposite situation, he'd have murdered himself already. Wilson had seemed rather keen to the idea in the beginning, but unfortunately Webber had stopped him.

It took Maxwell a moment to realize that there was, in fact, no fuel leftover near the fire. It took him a shorter amount of time to realize the fire was going to go out.

He shivered, staring at the pit, not even realizing that it had started to snow again, and wondered if perhaps Charlie was going to get him this time around. Hadn't he been more open to the idea of hounds instead of her however? 

He glanced over to the practically massive bundle of fur nearby, the light snow barely even touching before melting. The damn creature absolutely radiated heat, and Webber was hard to make out in that dark coat, mandibles curled close and nuzzling into dirty, mucked up fur. 

Well then, with the both of them asleep, nothing should come to tear them apart in the darkness. She was rather lenient about that sort of thing, and with how the both of them were monsters he didn't quite know if they actually were in her target range or not.

Of course Maxwell could attempt to fall asleep in the few moments before the fire finally died, but that was an impossible feat for him. It was too cold, for one, and now that he was awake it would take him ages to nod off again.

The former King sighed, letting his clenched hands relax and curling his arms about his chest, colder than ever now with the fires heat leaving. He supposed he could just sit and wait it out then.

Maxwell glared at the trembling flame. Sit and wait it out.

Sit and just...wait….for the fire to die...and for her to rush up and tear him apart...

Actually, now that he thought about it, he'd rather not.

Maxwell huffed and swung around, uncurling his arms and marching over to the massive beast that was, formerly, a supposed scientist and gentleman. Asleep, Webber looked especially spider like, almost cruel animalistically speaking, and he couldn't actually see Wilson's snout since the beast was curled up so strongly, fur puffed out and back rising with every breath.

A glance at the fire and Maxwell really didn't have much time. He hesitantly poked the side of the creature with his shoe, arms crossed and glowering down at where he supposed his head was.

It took a moment for anything to happen, and he cleared his throat, loudly, but not enough to wake up the sleeping spider child, another prod as he shivered even more, gritting his teeth hard. It was almost as if it was getting even colder now that he was trying to not die.

Another deep breath heaved through the creature and Maxwell wasn't quite ready when a thick muscled neck padded with fur uncurled itself and rose, even when settled down still taller than him, and he stumbled back a step, looking up into glowing white eyes.

And then he steeled himself, composed himself because Wilson was practically a stupid animal by now and if he wanted to really, truly kill him he'd have done it before now.

He cleared his throat again, locked eyes with the once scientist for as long as he dared, ignoring the huge curled ears that flicked and turned in the night air and the spines of bristling fur, just how utterly massive this little forgotten experiment of his was.

Just as he got the once a mans name out, however, stance defensive and trying to hide how hard he was actually trembling, the cold seeping into his bones and trying to make his knees give out, the light suddenly disappeared in a quiet “poof”.

There was a faint light above him, Wilsons eyes glowing in the dark, but Maxwell was a little preoccupied with other things at that moment.

More specifically, preoccupied with the fact that he could hear the darkness churning and slithering around him. She must have been paying close attention to him tonight to be so quick, and he squeezed shut his eyes and prepared himself to be ripped apart, tensing his shoulders.

And then warm breath washed over him, tainted and ill smelling enough to almost make him gag in surprise, and something thick and heavy and very, very furry shoved against his side, pulling him forward. His knees knocked together as he flashed open his eyes to complete darkness, unprepared to be suddenly yanked into a solid wall of warmth and greasy rough fur, fighting the urge to cough against the foul smell of dirt and caked muck and old blood, the musk of something big and canine and wild.

There was a snarling hiss above him, something which he assumed to be a massive paw pushing harshly against his back and shoving him into rank warmth, which also made it very hard to see and very hard to breath. 

The darkness moved, he could practically feel it as a shiver not caused by the cold ran up his spine, and even with his face in a mess of disgusting fur and heat Maxwell could feel the tense air, stilling his struggles for a moment as the night thrummed with energy and unspoken whispers.

And then it was gone, just like that, and he could feel the wall of muscle and flesh against him relax, fur puffing up around him, and with a renewed vigor Maxwell pushed and shoved against the paw holding him still, attempting to twist himself around and free his face from the utterly revolting stench of unwashed fur.

He couldn't even imagine what it would have been like had he had his mouth open, and with that he finally freed his face to the side, the paw holding his body still as he sucked in cold gasps of the night air. It was still dark, still very dark, and even against something this warm he could practically taste the threat hanging in the air that was right out of this bubble of safety, a giddy feeling as he stared out at what he knew to be Charlie.

A rumble from the beasts chest snapped him out of it, leaning almost limply into fur, and with that Maxwell twisted himself around, hissing in the freezing air as he tried to get in a more comfortable position. As he did so, gloved hands tangling with the monstrous hounds bristly fur, something beside him shifted.

He almost ignored it before another rumble of sound, this time a little more sharp, hovered just above him, thrumming in the chest that was against his back, and Maxwell froze as the spider child next to him shifted around and clicked and chirped in sleepiness.

Claws found his arms, the former King's face curling in irritation as another bundle of warmth pressed up against him, claws hooking into his clothing as mandibles and other spidery bits nuzzling against his side and chest.

He had the urge to shove the brat away, the knowledge of both of their utter lack of hygiene stringing through his mind, but another harsh rumble rose above him and he felt Wilson move, fur bristling and puffing up around him. The beast curled up, something swiping through the air as a huge tail coiled about, and Maxwell could feel his heart pounding in his chest as the absolutely massive, incredibly dangerous monster curled up around him and the spider child.

Webber, for their part, chirped and clicked next to him, blissfully unaware of the tense, almost shell shocked frame that they were clinging to in sleep.

Faint white light glowed next to him, a massive canine head laid down so close to Maxwell that he could practically feel every breath inhaled and exhaled from the once a man, and he very much felt like Wilson was looking at him, even lacking visible pupils.

This was probably one of the most terrifying experiences in his life.

It was also, as the night stretched and Webber relaxed fully against him, quiet breaths and low clicking spider noises from their dreams leaking from their fanged mouth, the warmest he has ever been since being on the Throne.

Wilsons glowing eyes didn't close, still watching him, pure white and reminding him almost too much of the things that would blink out from inside the Throne Room, but the unpleasantness of the watching shadows was non existent here.

It was also, unlike the numb Throne Room, incredibly comforting, in a rather odd, being-protected-from-the-darkness sort of way.

After a moment of the two of them holding gazes, Wilsons wide, monstrous glowing eyes and his own darkened ones, Maxwell shut his eyes tight, his lip curling in discomfort and unease and the nervousness that still was racing through him.

Well, Charlie wasn't going to have her say tonight, which he wasn't all too against really.

Dying really, really wasn't his cup of tea, after all, and if this was what he had to deal with to keep it as far away from him as possible, well.

So be it then.

Maxwell heaved out a tense, nerve wracking breath of air, hands curling and uncurling in the beasts greasy fur, and after a moment his shoulders relaxed, an ache blooming in his spine from holding himself so tightly and so still. Already he had stopped shivering, the warmth behind and next to him seeping softly into his old bones, and for a moment it actually felt rather…

Rather nice, being curled around and leaned against in such a way. Webber shifted, nuzzled their head and all their spider bits against him, claws curled and holding his arm close to them as if he was some stuffed substitute, but it wasn't as irritating as it had been at first.

Now, now it felt a little...a little comforting.

With the high of danger tapering off, leaving him still a little shaken, heart beating a little hard in his chest to the point of discomfort, feeling a little more extra vulnerable than usual, the drag of exhaustion was quick to settle over him.

Maxwell sighed, felt the massive hound monster that was Wilson do the same, and finally let himself drift off to sleep.


End file.
